


Dust

by SeasInkarnadine



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abuse, F/F, Peace Negotiations, Torture, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 04:53:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16654609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeasInkarnadine/pseuds/SeasInkarnadine
Summary: Within days of the fall of the mountain and the disappearance of Wanheda, war erupts amongst the 12 clans. It has been both brief and bitter, the bloodbath raging for 3 months. Now in the dead of winter Azgedakru and Triku have reached a stalemate. Commander Lexa approaches the negotiation table to meet with Nia Azgeda only to discover the Ice Queen's been playing with a card up her sleeve.





	Dust

The world of white and cold swirls tempestuous around her. The frozen fingers of winter seek out gaps in the thick layers of coats but find no purchase. She will not yield to them.

She doesn't pull away the scarf from her face when the guards finally see her.

She doesn't need to.

They recognize her.

Frost crusts their jackets but does nothing to hide the bright blue paint dashed across their brows.

 

They watch her with eyes half hidden by furs as she dismounts from her horse.

“ _ Set raun gon ai.” _ She murmurs to the giant black steed, watching as his breath puffs out and swirls into the grey sky.

 

She turns towards the tent, her boots crunching in the thick snow.

“The Queen is expecting you,  _ Heda _ .”

“Open the tent.” she commands.

They do.

She doesn't look back.

The flap falls back into place behind her.

For a heartbeat everything is swallowed by a heavy darkness.

Slowly, the world begins to rematerialize.

The first thing she notices are the stars; dozens of bright spots of flickering light. Constellations of light swirling around her in every direction.

_ Eyes, _ she amends. There are a thousand creatures staring at her. Foxes, bears, wolverines, snow cats, raccoons, minks, beavers, wolves, and a dozen other unidentifiable animal pelts line the walls. The heads are still attached, their eyes plucked out and replaced with marbles that glitter and dance in the firelight.

A sort of sentient death.

Above the entryway is a large banner decorated with the white Azgedan hand. Dozens of racks of antlers pin it in place.

"Commander Lexa." Her gaze jumps down to the figure that emerges from the shadows. "It's been too long." The Ice Queen looks much as she had the last time Lexa had seen her: swathed in thick grey robes, carved totems of bone hanging from around her neck, white hair pinned away from her face. "Come in and sit down." Her warm words are laced with a false honey.

They make Lexa want to gag.

Instead, she forces herself to swallow the acid in her throat and wills her legs into motion.

The entrance opens up to a large room with a beautiful carved mahogany table at its center. A map was laid out across its surface, bathed in orange light from a brazier. Lexa pushes her red scarf off of her head. Nia's throne is back a little further, placed atop a raised dais. The pelt of a great white bear lays draped over it. Eye motifs are scattered everywhere; carved into the wooden tent poles, painted on tapestries, sewn into the pattern of the rugs on the floor. Lexa holds her head high beneath their judgmental stares.

She will not yield to them.

Save a servant dressed in hooded cloak the two leaders are alone.

"How has the weather treated you?" The servant moves to pull out Nia's chair for her. Lexa does not wait to be seated, and instead pulls out her own chair to sit down.

"Do you care?" She is already sick of the small talk.

"You know that I do." The Ice Queen replies, a gentle reprimand.  She turns. "Fetch us some wine, won't you dear?" Places a hand on the small of the servant's back, a smile curling her lips. "The hot mulled that Isaak prepared, please." The servant disappears behind a flap, further into the room.

Lexa takes off her gloves and places them on the table. The room smells of smoke and wet fur and dark, heavy things.

Nia watches Lexa, her fingers playing with the blue beads around her wrists.

The silence stretches.

Lexa is not here to play mind games.

"We have cut off your supply line." She states plainly.

A heavy sigh passes from Nia's lips. She leans forward on the table, white hair falling over her shoulder. "To business, then."

Lexa bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

Before Nia has the chance to respond her servant is back, a wine bottle and cups in hand. Lexa does not look away from the Ice Queen for so much as a heartbeat.

"My wolf troopers are slaughtering your soldiers by the dozen." Nia says. She doesn't look up from pouring herself wine when she speaks.

"It has been sixteen days. Your warriors are growing hungry.” Lexa pauses for a beat.  “I've been told some have already begun to eat one another."

 

"They weren't eating each other, actually." Nia replies. "They were eating one of your villagers." 

 

Lexa bristles.

 

The harvest this year was mediocre. The winter has been long. A particularly aggressive species of meal worm infected the stock at Besda and supplies were stretched thinner than ever, and this was  _ before _ the villages had started to burn.

People were digging under the snow to eat the roots of weeds. Peeling bark off of trees. Stuffing stones into their bellies just to keep them from aching.    
Eating human flesh.   
Sucking marrow from human bones.

 

"Here, try this." Nia reaches over to place a glass in front of Lexa. "Dinner should be finished soon.”

She doesn’t touch it.

“Nothing good will come from drawing this war out any longer.” She meets Nia’s eyes. “What are your terms?”

“First, Ulfrek will be placed on the direct council as the head of trade and merchant affairs.” A remarkably capable man. He would have to be watched, of course, but this was an easy request to soften Lexa for when the hard demands began.

“Then I want all Azgedan prisoners of war released.”

“Naturally.”

“I want Sigur, Erik, Sigrid, Freya, and Slate to be freed from their respective prisons.” Murderers. Terrorists. Responsible for setting fire to a number of buildings in both Ton DC and Polis with people trapped inside. Slate was known for attacking children. Does Nia even know who these people are, beyond their status as high ranking criminals and Azgedakru?

Dinner arrives.

 

The servant is moving to deliver Lexa’s meal when they trip.

She reaches out to stop them from falling on her. One hand on their ribs, the other on their forearm.

But they aren’t what catches Lexa’s attention.

A burst of sky blue peers out from beneath the uniform’s hood.

Those eyes have haunted her sleep for  _ months _ .

She’d know them anywhere.

 

“Y—“  the syllable jumps from Lexa’s lips without permission.

 

She isn’t in this stuffy tent. She’s at the foot of a mountain, every muscle in her body aching. She watches realization wash over Clarke in waves. A stammer in her step. The bob of her throat. The hitch in her voice as she says Lexa’s name. None of it stops Lexa from turning her back.

 

A clatter.

 

“Oh dear. It appears you’ve spilled our Commander’s dinner.” Nia tuts  from the other side of the table. The other side of the map. The other side of the war.

“Come here, darling.” She coos. For a second time, Clarke slips from Lexa’s grasp. She is helpless as she watches the subject of her dreams and nightmares obey the Queen. 

 

Lexa feels violently nauseous.

“Mmm you’ve ruined your  _ kinapak _ .” Nia  _ purrs _ .

There isn’t a speck of food on the cloth mask.

With a sickening familiarity Nia reaches behind Clarke’s head to pull back the cowl and tug down the cloth from her mouth. Blonde hair tumbles forward. Nia brushes a strand back behind Clarke’s ear. 

 

She wants to ask what’s the meaning of this, but she already knows.

She already knows.

She will not yield.

“Hasn’t it been a while since you last saw Lexa, dear?” Nia smiles, playing with the leather collar strapped around Clarke’s throat. “You may speak.”

“Yes, my Queen.” It’s hard to tell exactly with how the robes turn her body into a shapeless mass, but Lexa could swear Clarke has lost weight. Her hair doesn’t shine as brightly as it once did.

“All non Azgedakru will be subject to a search when entering our cities.” The switch of subject is as jarring as she is sure Nia means for it to be.

_ She will not yield. _

“Do not insult me by handing me terms as if you had won this war, Nia Kom Azgedakru.”

“Not even if it means I’d turn  _ Wanheda _ over to you?”

“Not even if you threatened to cut off my braids.” She snarls, as vicious and snapping as she feels.

Nia smiles sadly, like she already knew that was what Lexa would say.

 

The squash splattered on her boots is growing cold.

“Clarke.” Nia’s tongue clicks on the consonants of her name even as her eyes remained locked with Lexa’s. “You’ve made a terrible mess. You have to clean it up.” Eyes downcast, the girl known as  _ Wanheda _ moves from Nia’s side to do as she’s bidden.

“ _ Azgeda _ will open its gates to Trikru and the other clans.” Lexa states.   
If Nia thought for an instant that the appearance of Clarke would soften Lexa’s resolve she was sorely mistaken.

“ _ Azgedakru _ will be allowed to openly practice the  _ Tamuarpaok  _ within Polis.” Nia tosses back.

“They already are. We settled the discussion of your dietary blood ritual with our last peace agreement.”

“And yet they are so weakly reinforced,” Nia hisses, the pretense of pleasantry slipping. “ _ Azgedakru _ are publicly humiliated and scorned for practicing their religion in a supposedly  _ neutral _ territory.”

 

Rage burns so hot in her veins it is freezing.

“You just admitted to your wolf troopers  _ eating _ one of my villagers.”

 

Nia sits back in her chair.

“What a soldier does in the midst of winter during war is a far cry from an unarmed civilian during peacetime.”

Lexa grinds her teeth together.

“I will see that they are granted further protection.”

Nia’s gaze snaps to Clarke, whom she seems to have momentarily forgotten about.

“No, dear. Not with your hands.”

_ Not with your hands. _ Lexa’s heart jumps to her throat. Nia’s face remains impassive.

Clarke pauses, then nods. Lexa watches as Clarke leans down on her knees and begins to pick up the ribs with her mouth.

“Stop.” Lexa commands. Chokes.

Clarke does not.

“She only listens to me.” The rush of revolt in Lexa’s stomach resonates with the smile curled on Nia’s lips, and Lexa scolds herself for falling to the Queen’s blatant shock tactics.

“Are we here to make a peace agreement, or play mind games?” If only the sharpness of words were capable of physical cuts.

“Why not both?” Nia grins wickedly, her rows of teeth like white stones in her mouth. “It’s this or we go back to war.” She adds like she can hear Lexa considering getting up and leaving.

The Commander stares across the table at Nia, biting the inside of her cheek to make physical some of the mountain of frustration and fear set on her shoulders. She shifts in her seat.

“Are you going to make any demands or are we going to sit here til nightfall?” Nia sounds  _ bored _ .

Lexa rallies herself.

“ _ Azgedakru _ will deliver twenty pallets of wood to each village that your soldiers ransacked. Additionally, they will receive five pallets of fur and ten  _ Azgeda _ made fishing poles.”

“Twenty pallets? That is excessive.”

“ _Excessive_ _is consuming innocent civilians._ ”

“You’re very stuck on that.”

“It’s hard not to be.”

For several long moments there's nothing but the pop of wood in the fireplace and the clink of Clarke gently placing scattered scraps of food onto a plate with her teeth.

She feels Clarke's tongue on her boot and could swear she tastes the rubber in her own mouth.

"Fine." Nia relents. "Fifteen pallets of wood to each village."

"You know just as well as I that it is twenty."

“Fine.”

“And ten pallets of fur and ten fishing poles. To each village.”

“That is.  _ Excessive _ .”

“Their homes were razed and their crops burned. Asking for Azgeda to assist with the reconstruction is hardly what one might call  _ excessive.” _

 

“Azgedakru are not the ones who did the burning or the razing, Lexa.”

She’s not lying.

Out of fear and spite the Trikru people burned their own crops to prevent them from falling into the enemy’s hands. So far, the tactic has been working to Lexa’s advantage; the Azegdakru gonas are starving.

“And yet ultimately it is Azgeda who are responsible.”

“And we’ll be responsible for much more if you don’t accept our offer.”

The tension in the air is thick enough to reach out and cut through with a knife.

She knows it is time to de-escalate. Her people  _ need _ peace.

“I will have Sigur and the others released from captivity. I will see that the  _ Tamuarpaok  _ is protected with renewed fervor. You will provide the damaged Trikru villages with wood, fur, and fishing poles. Are we in agreement?”

The silence extends. Nia draws it out painfully in a petulant fit. 

Ultimately, Lexa’s patience remains unmatched.

“Agreed.” Nia concedes. Her eyes are sharp in the firelight. Another moment of calm, then:

“I want the youngest child of each of your generals to become a Ward in the North.”

Lexa’s teeth ache from how she’s clenching them.

Eight children from eight generals, some of them barely babes. As wards they would be raised in Azgeda by  _ Gerschef _ , taken from their families and taught to love nothing more than their nation and their queen. And they’d be close at hand should Trikru do anything the Azgedans weren’t happy with. A hand around their throats. 

“You are in no position to make such a demand.” She snarls. Her people will not tolerate this insult. They will not tolerate Lexa accepting such an insult.

“Why do you chafe so?” Nia questions with a self satisfied smile on her face. “You’ve had no problem sacrificing loved ones for the greater good in the past.”   
  
Unbidden, the memories jump forward. Cold, smooth skin beneath her fingers. Soft black hair matted with blood. The broken sound of Lexa’s name on Costia’s bruised lips.

“Besides,” Nia adds, “I can do whatever I want… if I have the strength with which to enforce it.” Nia’s eyes snap to Clarke. “I am making some very powerful friends.”

  
Trigedakru scouts have been posted around Arkadia since the day she abandoned them to the Mountain Men. Their reports made three things very clear.

  1. Clarke was not there, or if she was, she never came outside.
  2. Skaikru are gradually moving in to Mount Weather.
  3. Azgeda gona parties were seen entering and exiting the establishment.



 

It’s easy to assume that Nia is attempting to leverage skaikru’s hatred for Lexa to form an alliance. An alliance with the kru moving in to mount weather. And alliance with the kru capable of arming, aiming, and deploying the missiles resting there.

Mercifully, they have thus far remained neutral.

 

“Skaikru will not accept any form of alliance with your people when they find how you have treated  _ Wanheda _ .” 

 

“Why?” Nia laughs brusquely. “Who’s going to tell them? You?” They both know Skaikru would rather kill Lexa a thousand times than speak to her.

 

“Those silly fools don’t even know where  _ Wanheda  _ is.” She leans back and sips her wine. “But that’s her choice, not mine. She asked me not to tell them.” Her eyes meet Lexa’s. “Clarke  _ wants _ to be here with me.”

 

On the table, Lexa’s left hand curls into a fist. Nia smiles slyly. “Don’t you believe me...? Maybe a demonstration is in order.”

_ Leave her alone _ , the words burn on her tongue,  _ she has nothing to do with this _ . But, oh. Clarke has  _ everything _ to do with this.

“Clarke. Come here,  _ pichu _ .”

Dutifully, Clarke get up from her position on the floor.  She brings the plate of spilled food with her.

“That’s better food than you’ve eaten in months, isn’t it, darling?” Clarke bites her bottom lip and  _ oh, _ it’s a terrible time for Lexa to be revisiting that moment in her tent all those months ago.

Clarke’s nod is almost imperceptible.

“Would you like some?” Nia’s voice is softer than a lover in bed, but the lines of her face are iron.

Clarke picks up where this game is going.

She nods.

“Let me make it a little easier for you. Here.” She takes Clarke’s hand and pushes back the voluminous sleeve. Nia’s deft fingers pull the straps loose from the buckles on the massive leather cuffs. Lexa’s gut drops to see the skin chafed red beneath.

Abruptly, she stands up.

Nia can’t put on a show if she doesn’t have an audience.

 

She turns to leave.

“Lexa, darling.” It’s hot in the tent but the hair on the back of her neck stands up from a sudden chill. “If you take a single step further I will close the door on the negotiations for peace between Trikru and Azgeda.” There isn’t a doubt in her mind that Nia means every word.

A muscle in Lexa’s jaw jumps.

She turns back to face the table.

Nothing on Nia’s face gives away the glee Lexa is sure she is feeling.

Once she knows that Lexa is watching Nia proceeds to reach up to the collar circling Clarke’s throat. Lexa’s knuckles are white where she grips the hilt of her sword. She didn’t even realize she’d grabbed it.

Nia’s eyes dart down and then back up. The corners of her lips quirk up. She knows. She knows that Lexa won’t do it. No matter how much she wants to. To kill another leader during a peace negotiation would crush the little remaining respect Lexa commands.

So she holds.

Watches.

Waits.

Tries not to think of Costia.

“There you are, dear.” Clarke wears a necklace of purple bruises. Lexa wears a stone mask. “Now, you may eat. You can use your hands this time.” Slowly but surely, Clarke’s trembling fingers lift the first morsel of cold potatoes to her mouth.

“Did you know,” Nia reaches out to stroke Clarke’s hair, causing her to flinch, “that if you tie a calf to a post with a line of rope, it will pull and tug and buck for its freedom…” Clarke’s shoveling food down with greater alacrity now, “It will buck and kick and pull and tug for  _ days _ ,  _ weeks, _ even, with little food and less rest. But eventually it will come to realize there is no point in exerting itself over a futile task. Gradually the calf will settle. It will eat, drink, and soon enough forget it ever had a desire to leave in the first place. The calf grows, as all things do. Before much longer you have a fully grown bull tied to a scrap of rope. Anyone looking at the bull can plainly see it has strength enough to rip out the post and run off. But the bull, you see, doesn’t understand. As far as it knows the knot is just as strong as when it was a calf. Eventually the bull is tethered by nothing but its own belief.”

Lexa breathes through her nose. She wants to run away to the recesses of her mind, but she doesn’t. She knows she can’t. She owes this to Clarke.

“Excellent job, darling.” Nia gently rubs the back of the blue robe. Clarke balks visibly. Her throat works up and down, up and down, like she’s trying to keep something down.

“Take off that robe; you don’t need it in here. We’re comfortable with Lexa, aren’t we?” Lexa keeps her eyes firmly locked on Clarke’s face as she obeys the command without hesitation. The cloth drops. 

The skai girl stands in nothing but chest bindings, underclothes, and bruises.

 

Lexa’s earlier assumption about Clarke’s weight proves to be true.

 

“There. That’s much better. Lexa, sit back down, please. We still have things to discuss. Dearest, more hot wine.”

 

Rather than incurring more anger in her, Lexa is hit with profound sorrow. No matter how small it may have been, she took part in turning Clarke into...into this.

 

Emotion makes the back of her throat thick for half a heartbeat before she wrestles her heart back into the iron lockbox of logic.

Lexa moves so she stands beside her chair.

 

“I want all of the territory north of Caster to become  _ Azgedakru _ .” Nia states plainly.

That land is sacred ground for Plains Riders. Nia knows this.

“Sit down.” Nia barks.

Stubbornly, she insists on standing.

“Clarke.” Nia’s voice snaps through the tent.

Clarke comes like a whipped dog. Shoulders hunched, head down. She’s beautiful, she’s beautiful, and Lexa hates herself for thinking so when this entire situation is anything but.

Nia looks Lexa straight in the eye as she withdraws a dagger from a sheath at her hip.

“Give me your arm.” There’s hardly a moment of hesitation.

Nia draws the blade across the sensitive flesh of Clarke’s forearm.

“ _ Sit. _ ” She hisses.

 

There is nobody else in the tent.

 

Lexa has nothing to prove to anyone. 

This small battle is not worth Clarke’s pain.

 

She sits.

Nia’s face immediately clears up.

“Was that so hard?” She wonders, sliding the knife back in place. “As you were, dear. No, no. Let it bleed. Hurry along, now.”  

 

“How much longer do you feel it necessary to draw this out?” Lexa barks, pretending her voice isn’t rough around the edges.

 

“As long as it takes for you to believe me.”

“I believe you.”

She laughs. She actually  _ laughs. _

“No, Lexa, I don’t think you do. But you will.”

 

Clarke returns.   
Hands bare.   
Feet bare.   
Forearms speckled with vibrant purple scars.

 

A deep, resonating sorrow echoes through her bones. This. She thought she had forgotten...what this felt like. She’s felt the ripples since Costia’s death but hadn’t realized how dulled they were. This piercing reverberation shaking her chest… she shouldn’t feel so strongly for someone she barely even  _ knows _ . The animalistic compulsion to protect is something she should feel for none but her people.

 

“The territory north of Caster, Lexa.” 

“Is sacred ground. You cannot have it. This is non-negotiable.” She will not yield.

Nia snorts.

“Nothing is non-negotiable. Clarke--”

“If you think hurting her is going to sway my opinion on this subject then you are mistaken. The Plainsriders own that territory.”

“They might own it, but you own  _ them _ .”

“Only for as long as I have their respect.”

“Then move them with force.”

“I won’t do that.”

“Darling--”This to Clarke, “Bring me the fire poker, would you?”

She does.   
It’s glowing red hot on one end.

She hands it over wordlessly to Nia. Eyes downcast. Body completely free of any trace of resistance. Beaten. Wholly and completely broken. She just handed over a  _ weapon _ .

Nia turns the white end towards Clarke.

“This will change nothing.” Lexa’s words fall stilted from her mouth.

 

She wonders if Nia won’t do it anyway. Hurt Clarke just for the fun of it. For watching Lexa squirm.

 

“No…” Nia sighs, “I suppose you’re right.” Sets the poker down with the edge hanging off of the table. 

 

Internally, Lexa relaxes a fraction.

 

Lexa wonders how many failed attempts it’s taken for Clarke to become like this.

“Darling, here. Cut my meat would you?” A steak knife, now. Offered handle first. Clarke takes it gently and begins to saw at Nia’s meat. Lexa isn’t disappointed. Just sad.

 

“Take my demands to your council.” Nia says, sitting back in her chair. “Tell them I expect full surrender within the fortnight or I will make death itself rain down on your people.” She can do that now, can’t she? Seeing as she owns the Commander of Death.

 

“Don’t get any smart ideas.” Nia keeps her eyes on Lexa. 

 

“We have a ceasefire for a fortnight.” Lexa states, standing from her chair.

 

“It will end sooner than that should your people try to attack...or any attempt to rescue  _ Wanheda _ be made.” That doesn’t stop Lexa from conjuring battle plans in her brain. Clarke could carry enough weight to keep Skaikru from falling into Nia’s pocket.

 

Nia knows this.

 

Lexa knows that Nia knows.

 

What a game of cat and mouse this is going to be.

 

“If you do not send a messenger to me in two weeks time…. Well. I’ll let your imagination run.” Clarke is still leaning over the table, sawing at Nia’s steak. “Show yourself out, now.” 

 

Part of her hates leaving Clarke behind a second time. Another part knows that Nia won’t be quite so cruel to Clarke when she doesn’t have an audience. 

She lets herself take one last long look at the skaikru girl. She wears nothing but her underclothes and abuses. Red and purple and yellow and green plain for anyone to see. 

Lexa guts the emotional center of her brain. She turns around. Doesn’t bother with the customary goodbye. Nia’s manners have been far from deserving.

 

Her limbs feel heavy as she walks away, stones lodged in her throat and heart and mind.   
Both sides have taken the first step towards peace, and yet Lexa cannot help but feel as though this were a battle she soundly lost.

 

She takes three steps when a choked breath reaches her ears.

 

There is no calm before the storm. Time does not slow. Her senses do not become sharper. There isn’t any room for conscious thought. Her body takes over, it’s all action and reaction, subconscious commands fired before a lucid thought can be formed.

 

She whips out her blade, spinning to defend against the onrush of attack. There is not attack. At least, not aimed at her.

 

Nia sits at the table.

There is a steak knife plunged to the hilt in her neck. 

 

“You forgot one critical thing about me,  _ my Queen _ ,” Clarke hisses in the ear of her former master. “ _ I am not a bull _ .” 

 

\---

_ Set raun gon ai:  _ Wait here for me.

_ Kinapak:  _ An Inuit word meaning “mask”

_ Pichu:  _ Pet

 


End file.
